Love Only Knows How To Love
by She11y
Summary: People judge differences, something which Love doesn't understand. With Love, there are no differences, for underneath our style, skin and gender, is a just a heart that wants to love and to be loved in returned. These are the events which took place on the day of Magnus and Alec's second date. Rated M for some strong language and intense fluff. A Malec short-story.
1. Chapter 1

**With the exciting announcement of the Magnus Bane Trilogy, I finally decided to finish and, at last, upload this short story which I started about a year ago. I can never get enough of this incredible world that Cassandra Clare has created and so I wanted to make my own contribution to it - and, of course, I had to centre it on my favourite (and perhaps the majority of fan's favourite) pair! I like to imagine scenes that could have happened, keeping them as true to the original story as possible. And so, this short story takes place a week after Magnus and Alec's first date (from the chapter The Course of True Love (And First Dates) of The Bane Chronicles) between City of Bones and City of Ashes. Although I'm British, I tried to write this piece in American English, as Cassandra Clare would for her stories, so I apologise if I've used the wrong terms or spellings. I've also created a few new characters which I may later explore and write about so that we can discover their own story, especially if they gain reader interest! If any of you have read my other works, you will probably know that I'm not the most reliable of writers when it comes to updating a fanfiction (sorry!). However, I can guarantee that this one is finished (the entire piece is about 20 thousand words) but I'm going to upload it in sections at a time. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated but, most of all, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)**

* * *

The day of Magnus's second date with a Shadowhunter had started off perfectly normal, as every other day had been recently. Of course, "normal" wasn't exactly the best word to use when there was still the fear over Valentine's return and his eventual plan to strike, which lingered in the back of everyone's minds. Aside from that, things were as normal as they could be and Magnus had chosen to accept the inevitability of a revolt, disregarding the smell of fear as if it were the odor of garbage and urine outside of his apartment which he'd been ignoring for the past however many decades.

He was awoken, as per usual, by midday sun rays greeting his eye lids and claws digging into his skull – an innocent act of affection which, despite inflicting him with pain, Magnus would feel cruel to scold his cat for. He untangled the flurry limbs from his hair and placed Chairman Meow alongside him, eventually stroking his reverberating chest to settle his cries for attention.

When Magnus's eyes fell on his outfit for tonight - a splash of purple and silver across his wardrobe - a thrill shivered through his body and he brought the linen bed sheets higher up his torso. After the success of his first date with Alec Lightwood, he was, without question, looking forward to their second. Although there had been a few minor catastrophes last Friday (most of which had been Magnus's fault) the evening had gone better than he'd anticipated and he'd been left wanting more from the boy with the dark hair and blue eyes. He knew, however, that 'more' wouldn't happen today. Up until now, Alec had lead a respectable life, abiding laws and behaving to the standards that were expected of him. And then Magnus had winked at him. He could have tainted the boy's angelic blood with the demon poison from his own veins and the act wouldn't have been more outrageous of a Downworlder toward a Shadowhunter. Well, the latter was probably illegal but both would get the Nephilim talking.

He pitied Alec for having to closet his sexuality and his interest in a Downworlder because the Nephilim disapproved of such 'scandalous' acts. Alec was a good person - something that Magnus never thought he would say about a member of the Lightwood family - and he deserved to find his own happiness. If that involved a sparkly warlock who was older than his grandfather's grandfather and owned more clothes than a compulsive hoarder had junk, then Magnus wasn't going to deny him of that.

His date outfit consisted of leather pants with a silver studded belt and a buttoned shirt that was shaded mulberry and was as thin as tissue paper. He had debated putting on a vest underneath; however, he didn't want to wear something that would inhibit Alec from exploring his body like he'd done the last time. Again, he had no expectations of Alec taking anything further, not for a long while, supposing their dates ever became something more, but Magnus could imagine. He remembered the way Alec's hands had shaken as he stroked the skin beneath his clothing and he remembered the touch of his tender kisses. They were so honest, so sweetly complaisant, and the memory of Alec's lips against Magnus's palm made his heart ache again.

Snapping his fingers, a cigarette appeared between them. A blue flame sparked from his other hand and he used it to take a long draw. It wasn't until his fourth puff that he realized he didn't even smoke and he dropped the remaining half in the glass of red wine on his bedside table. The sudden reflex to inhale tobacco happened on rare occasions when overcome with anxiety, like a nervous habit to soothe his tension, even though he wasn't addicted to the substance. Before his first date with Alec, he wasn't sure what to expect, other than that he found the boy and his sincerity attractive. He'd had nothing to lose. Now that they had established a romantic connection with their reciprocated feelings, Magnus felt he had more at stake with their second date. He was getting carried away with himself, he knew, but didn't he always? Perhaps he was a fool to become involved with one of the Nephilim, but already he could feel himself falling for even the small things about Alec, from his polite tendencies and careful hands to the way his entire face lit up when he wore a genuine smile, brightening the cerulean rim around his pupils. Magnus had only seen those moments a few times and he intended on encouraging their occurrence; life as a Shadowhunter offered little to laugh about.

Deciding he ought to do something more useful with himself, Magnus crawled out of bed on all-fours before picking up his dressing gown from the ground and sliding his arms into the sleeves. The material was thin and silk-like and patterned with the colors of a monarch butterfly. Magnus felt no shame that it had come from a clothesline for women.

As he padded down the hall to the main room, a polystyrene foam coffee cup appeared in his grasp and he sipped the caffeinated contents. He had only one appointment for that day – a widow with a ghost problem, specifically her late husband who she claimed to be haunting her - and he'd made sure that he would be left with enough time afterwards to prepare for the evening to come.

When he wasn't partying, the interior of his loft was usually more respectable. He had wiped away the spray paint from his windows and fitted vertical blinds along the ceiling which dropped to the floor. A breeze drifted into the room, causing the plastic slats to clatter noisily against each other. Discovering that the door which lead to the stairwell was open, Magnus closed it firmly before wondering over to the windows and pulling on the cord. Strips of yellow light filtered into the room behind him and he failed to notice the body lying on his sofa. There was a harsh sizzling sound and an irritated gasp of pain which made Magnus turn in surprise and drop his coffee to the ground.

" _Pinche idiota!_ " a voice hissed from the shadows.

"How charming," Magnus murmured indifferently as he dematerialized the spillage from sight with a flick of his hand. "I don't recall inviting any vampires over for a slumber party, so naturally I wasn't expecting to find one lounging on my settee." He tugged on the cord again, restricting the sun rays to a dull glow behind the blinds.

The figure rose slowly from his crouched position, shaking the black curls from his eyes to show the snarl that grew on his young face. He wore jeans and an open white shirt which was now scorched at the fastening and exposed a cross dangling from a thin chain around his neck. A fading burn marked his abdomen. "Your doors were open but you were sleeping. I was waiting for you to rise."

"Then perhaps you should've made yourself known before I opened the blinds." Magnus came over to the seating area and subsided into an armchair, a new cup of coffee in his hand.

" _Dios,_ what are you wearing? You look like a prostitute."

"It's one thing to enter someone's house uninvited, another to make rude remarks about their clothing." He rested a shin over his thigh, offering full view to his modesty. "What do you want, Raphael?"

Raphael scowled in disgust. "You are not funny, warlock." He perched on the arm rest of the sofa, one foot hitched on the cushion seat so that his elbow rested on his knee. "I came to find what you know of Valentine. It has been some weeks and all I hear are the same stories."

"What stories?"

"That Valentine has _la Copa Mortal._ " As Raphael spoke, his eyes lit up with zeal. "He has taken the Mortal Cup and gone. _Desaparecido._ He cannot be found."

Tapping a finger against his coffee cup, Magnus said, "Then you know about as much as I do."

There was a timid cry from Magnus's feet and when he looked down he found Chairman Meow scrabbling at the armchair, his tail whipping from side to side in agitation. Lifting the cat onto his lap, Magnus tickled fondly behind his ears. "He isn't keen on vampires."

Raphael uttered a scornful grunt. "You think that I care? I hate cats."

"You'll never make friends with an attitude like that," Magnus chastised, paying more attention to Chairman than Raphael.

"I have many friends, unlike you. That is why you have a cat."

"Thank you for reminding me why, after half a century, we're still not friends." With Chairman now curled into his lap, Magnus put his beverage to one side. He rested his elbows on either armrest and made a steeple with his hands. "Now then, it seems highly unlikely that you would wait all night to ask me about Valentine. Information like that could be sought from anyone, if there was anything to tell, which you already know there isn't. It's also rare for you to be doing your own dirty work and even rarer for you to do so without one of your so-called 'friends' accompanying you." His lips brushed against his forefingers. "You wouldn't have come if there was another way to find your answers. You're here because you need to speak with me specifically and you're alone because you want your inquiries kept private."

Raphael was completely still, his features as hard and smooth as a marble statue. Although he had the face of a teenage boy, he wore it with the intense maturity of someone who had experienced an arduous lifetime– something which Magnus immediately understood, except he'd lived about ten of them. Guileful intentions flickered behind Raphael's eyes before his usual glare returned.

"Fine," he muttered and there was a bitter edge to his voice. "But I want you to answer without questions." He rose gracefully from his position and straightened his shirt; the burn on his skin had now faded away completely but his clothing remained singed. "I want to know if you have seen or heard from Camille Belcourt this year."

The name struck a chord in Magnus's heart and bittersweet thoughts he usually suppressed suddenly came to the forefront of his mind. She was nothing but a beautiful memory which used to keep him awake at night for all of the wrong reasons. Evidently Raphael was aware of their history but to what extent Magnus was uncertain. It made sense, however, that if Raphael had come to him, it would be because of her.

Magnus answered honestly. "I haven't had any contact with her for over a century."

"We both know that is a lie."

Taken aback by Raphael's assumption, Magnus said, "What reason would I have for lying? When I left Camille, I left her for good. I haven't seen her since."

"Have you forgotten summer of 1977?"

Magnus pushed his index finger against his temple as he tried to recollect his memories from the seventies. He recalled taking a one week trip to Monte Carlo which ended up in a two-year vacation around France, Italy, Greece and London. The summer which Raphael spoke of was when Magnus has returned to his apartment here in New York.

"Nothing happened – at least, nothing of any significance. And if I remember rightly, problems with the Circle didn't start until a decade later."

Confusion lined Raphael's brow and he shook his head, seeming to be in two minds over a matter. " _Dios,_ " he murmured. Eventually he shrugged as if he were now indifferent to any prior concerns and he hooked a thumb in the belt loop of his jeans. "Perhaps I am thinking of another warlock. You are all the same to me. So your answer is no?"

"It is, fortunately."

Raphael nodded solemnly. "She has been away from the clan for a while. A vacation" he added hastily with a glare in his eyes that warned Magnus not to ask him to elaborate on this. "It is better this way but the others are starting to ask questions. I am second in command so they ask me. Even Shadowhunters have asked me. The clan needs a leader but Camille… she is no leader."

"So you've come here not because you want to find her, but because you want to ensure she hasn't returned?"

"If she comes back, the questions will stop. But she cannot lead us. She is not good for the clan." He clenched his hands into fists and his knuckles looked almost white. "If Camille returns to New York, I must know."

"Alright," Magnus said in exasperation, lifting himself out of the armchair and forgetting that Chairman was on his lap. The cat fell to the floor with a displeased meow and fled from the room. "Yet I doubt very much that I'll hear anything before you do. As I said, it's been a very long time since we were last in touch. Camille knows where I am. If she ever intended on speaking with me again, she would've made herself known by now. Are we done here?"

"Yes, we are done."

"I gather you can lead yourself out since you found your own way in without any hassle?"

" _Dios mío,_ I am tired of your joking. It is still daylight, remember?"

Magnus groaned with the realization that Raphael would have to remain in his apartment for the remainder of afternoon and he massaged his forehead with his fingertips. Even though Alec wouldn't arrive until the evening, Magnus would need Raphael to leave as soon as his curse would permit; he couldn't risk him finding out about his date with a Shadowhunter - specifically a male one - unless he wanted every vampire in the Hotel Dumort to know, also. "Fine," he exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. "But I want you gone as soon as the sun sets."

"You think I want to be here? It hurts my eyes to look at you."

"Raphael, you're more than welcome to sleep in one of the spare rooms," said Magnus wearily. "In fact, I order you to go sleep in one of the spare rooms. I want you out of my hair."

" _Vete al infierno,_ " Raphael snarled as he started off down the hallway.

"You hardly need to tell me to go to hell since I'm already going there when I die. And in case you've forgotten, you're going, too!" Magnus called after him, tightening the belt cord around his waist. There was the slam of a door and then, at last, silence. "Vampires," Magnus muttered to a frightened Chairman Meow who had peeped his head around a corner. "Such pleasant creatures."

After he'd opened the blinds to prevent Raphael from coming out again, Magnus dragged himself back to his own bedroom and slumped on the stool at his dressing table. He held his head in his hands, his fingers scrunched in his spiky hair, and he grimaced at his reflection. Sleep had smeared the dark make-up around his eyes so that he looked half-panda rather than half-demon and his metallic nail varnish had chipped.

"You need a holiday," he told himself and his reflection responded with another grimace. Even though he could fix the state of his appearance with a snap of his fingers, he reasoned that it would be worth preserving his magic for his client; he didn't want to be drained of energy before Alec's arrival.

With a heavy hand, he brought the bottle of make-up remover toward him and began wiping at his face. Sighing, he reassured himself that whilst in his dressing gown and sleepy state he may have looked like something he most certainly wasn't, at least he didn't have Raphael's permanent appearance of a pubescent boy.

* * *

"Corner of Christopher and Sixth Avenue," Magnus demanded upon diving into the backseat of the vehicle and slamming the door behind him. "And I kindly ask that you step on it." Normally Magnus wouldn't elbow a mundane aside for their taxi unless he felt he had matters of greater urgency to attend to – then again, his matters, whether they were business or personal, were always more important. Nonetheless, today was the worst day to have fallen behind schedule and Magnus didn't have time for manners and cordiality.

"Cops chasing you?" The cab driver asked and he chuckled to himself, clearly pleased with this joke he had probably said to a hundred others who were in a hurry. He was a proud owner of an overgrown mustache which seemed to sprout from nose; it did him no favors.

"No, but I do have a date tonight so, please, just drive."

"You got it," Mr. Mustache replied and only when the vehicle started to move did Magnus relax into his seat.

How his day could become any worse he didn't know. Despite awakening to a promising morning, it would seem that his carefully arranged agenda had been foiled by kismet – the karma points he should've earned for healing Alec Lightwood's injuries free of charge clearly hadn't been recognized. Although, perhaps such an act didn't count when done for the selfish reason of wanting someone to like you.

Magnus fastened the zip of his snakeskin printed jacket, muttering in annoyance when he found a purple stain on his sleeve and he squashed his hands against his spiky hair in order to tame the static strands.

"Rough day?" asked Mr. Mustache, glancing at Magnus through the rear-view mirror.

"You could say that," Magnus replied, almost laughing at the understatement.

"You're telling me! You ever had to drive a woman to the hospital before she gave birth in the backseat of your cab?" Mr. Mustache chuckled again. "I've never gone through so many red lights before in my life."

Magnus murmured impassively; a speeding cab was nothing out of the ordinary, regardless of its reasons, but he decided against elaborating on why his afternoon spent ghost-busting had been worse. In an attempt to prevent further interrogation, Magnus rested his head against the leather behind him and closed his eyes. Yet he soon realized his efforts were futile when the driver spoke again.

"What've you and the lucky lady got lined up tonight, eh?"

When Magnus looked, he saw that the man's eyes were grinning. With his mouth set in an irritated line, he broke the visual contact with him and pulled out his wallet; he'd already decided that he wasn't giving a tip. "Lucky _man,_ " Magnus corrected, sliding out a few notes from the pocket. "And if I'm completely honest, I haven't got anything planned because I have no idea what he enjoys doing." _Apart from killing demons,_ Magnus wanted to add. Although, he had the impression that perhaps Alec wouldn't even call that a pastime but rather a duty. "Any suggestions?"

"What about that new movie all the kids are talking about? You know, the one with all the wizards at that magic school –"

"Overrated," Magnus sighed; he hadn't seen the movie but he was tired of mundanes referring to magical beings as 'wizards' when no such people existed. What confused him more is that, although they were familiar with the term 'warlock', they still exercised their imaginations with the thought of white bearded men waving sticks at each other. The notion was so impossible that Magnus cringed for the mundane race.

"Take him out for dinner. You can't go wrong with that."

Up until last Friday, Magnus would've said the same. Then he'd taken Alec to a Downworlder restaurant for their first date and this presumption had been firmly revoked.

Before he could respond, Mr. Mustache asked, "Christopher Street was it?"

"Just on the corner leading onto Sixth Avenue," Magnus directed and once the car had come to a halt, he threw a handful of notes in the spare seat at the front of the vehicle.

The pavement glowed a dull orange under the crepuscular light and Magnus strode with purpose along the street to his apartment, relieved to be free from his obligations. A grin grew on his face as he passed a line of warehouses and ascended the few steps to the entryway of one of the buildings. He hummed merrily, thoughts of Alec on his mind, as he passed through the thick, metal door and bounded up the stairwell to reach his loft.

Chairman Meow greeted him at the door and as he stepped inside he lifted the small tabby cat into the air, arms outstretched.

"Chairman, you are my munchkin," Magnus cooed and he blew a kiss at the whiskered face before him. "If you weren't covered in fur, I would munch on you right now."

" _Dios mío,_ " a voice drawled from across the room. "There is something wrong with you."

Magnus's recuperated optimism burst like a bubble around him. "Raphael, why are you still here?"

Placing, Chairman on the floor, he turned his attention to the vampire, who was sprawled on a bean bag with nothing but a towel around his waist and his hair shiny and tousled. It wasn't until then that Magnus realized the TV was on, displaying a graphic scene involving a lot of blood and human death.

"That's not a nice thing to say to your guest," Raphael chastised, a smile curling on his lips.

"You're not my guest. You came here on your own accord and I allowed you to stay so I wouldn't be held accountable for your immediate death. Now, I told you to leave by sunset –"

" _Tranquilo,_ warlock," the vampire said in a monotonous tone. "Relax. I am still waking up –"

"... And you're sitting on Chairman's beanbag!"

Raphael heaved a disinterested sigh. "It's just a stupid cat."

With a flick of his hand, Magnus levitated and then capsized the bean bag, causing Raphael to fall gracelessly to the floor. "I want you dressed and then I want you out."

The vampire, never one to be the subject of mockery, receded from the room before Magnus could blink, leaving a vitriolic whisper of Spanish curses in his wake.

Sighing wearily, Magnus snapped his fingers, cutting the power to the television to quell the screams which blared from the screen. No sooner had silence fallen than a cacophony of vibrations reverberated from the intercom which, to Magnus, sounded like a monophonic rendition of the opening motif to Beethoven's Fifth.

"Name?" he barked into the receiver.

"Um... Christina. Christina Andersen." Despite her youthful voice, Magnus could sense the exigency which lined it. "Should I say my middle name?"

"Not unless you want to waste my time any further. Requisition?"

"What?"

"WHY HAVE YOU CALLED UPON THE HIGH WARLOCK OF BROOKLYN?" he asked in a booming voice.

"I... So, you're Magnus Bane?"

"Yes." _Unfortunately,_ he wanted to add.

"Oh, thank _God,_ " Christina effused into the intercom and the rest of her words came out in a panicked babble, "You have no idea how many doors I had to try before yours and I'm running out of time because my friend –"

"I can't help you."

Christina's voice faltered, as if she hadn't rehearsed any lines in the event that he might refuse. "But... but this is an emergency!"

"And this isn't the ER. Surprising as this may sound but I actually have a life outside of work, so unless you've made an appointment –"

"How long does a vampire have left to live once they've been bitten by a werewolf?"

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut as he mentally fought between his moral obligations and his disposition to rebuff last minute clients. "If you're lucky, a day – at most."

At first there was no response and Magnus wondered whether the girl had left or, God forbid, started to cry. But then her voice came through the intercom, clear and undaunted. "Then help me."

"I prefer not to involve myself in disputes among Children of the Night and Moon lest I want to make an enemy of either one for appearing to favor a side."

"But you wouldn't be taking sides because I'm not a vampire!" She paused, as if breathless from her frustration to be heard. "I'm a werewolf."

Pushing harassed fingers through his hair, Magnus replied, "I don't think that ameliorates the situation. Although, regardless of the circumstances, I doubt you could afford me." His statement was harsh yet true; morals aside, he couldn't make a habit of offering his magic for free.

"What if I could? Would you help me – help my friend?

Magnus threw a defeated arm into the air. "Do I even have a choice in the matter?"

"Not really."

"You weren't supposed to answer that," he muttered before hanging up the receiver.


	2. Chapter 2

Magnus Bane was not a pushover.

A powerful warlock, Magnus was brilliant at most things and always left a trail of glitter behind to prove that he knew it. He had lived hundreds of years and would live hundreds more; he could perform magic more advanced than most of his kind and he'd made a prosperous career with this fortuitous ability. He was colorful and extravagant and the High Warlock of Brooklyn for a reason.

But he was definitely not a pushover.

In Magnus's line of work, one couldn't afford to have a commiserative heart. Standards had to be set and charitable services were to be avoided. That wasn't to say, however, that Magnus hadn't a heart at all; there were always exceptions - Alec Lightwood being one of them.

Magnus could have refused Christina's plea. He could have informed the Clan leader (or in this case, Raphael, the Second-in-command) and let him take it up with the Clave to punish the culpable werewolf.

In other words, he could have let the vampire die.

Upon opening the main door at the bottom of the stairwell, Christina thrust a small trinket into his palm, warm from having previously been held in her clammy grip.

"Come on," she cried, one hand closing over his fingers as the other tugged at his forearm to encourage his haste. The girl had impressive strength despite her short stature, although the lycanthropy would be to blame for that. Her freckled face, framed by defiant waves of strawberry blonde hair, was filled with determination as she pulled. And yet, behind the enkindling yellow flecks of her irises, Magnus saw undeniable fear. She looked barely 16.

"Lead the way," Magnus commanded in a lackluster tone; he refrained from raising his eyebrows at the sight of blood on the front of her checked shirt.

As he walked alongside Christina, taking long strides to match the pace of her jogging, he unfurled his fingers. Pressed into his palm was a small, silver ring, bearing an uncut emerald stone. The thin shank broke out around the head into delicate tendrils which held the gemstone in place and on the inner side of the band he found the Latin words _do ut des_ engraved into the metal.

"It isn't often you find a werewolf in possession of silver. I take it this is your payment?" Magnus asked, twirling the ring between his fingers.

"Is it enough?"

He pocked the jewel. "Was it yours?"

Christina stopped at the edge of a curb. "Would you believe me if I said it was given to me?"

"That depends on the story behind it."

After the brief traffic had cleared, they crossed the road to the other side where Christina then turned down a narrow street. It was not unlike the one Magnus lived down with its strip of warehouses on either side of them and garbage that littered the pavement. Except there was little evidence of any life and the further down they walked, the thicker the silence felt.

"My father gave it to my mother during their final year at the Academy." Christina paused, as if she were waiting for Magnus to interject, but he only listened. "'I give so that you will give,'" she said, translating the inscription on the ring. "I used to think it was a declaration of his love, like he was promising my mother all of his love and asking for her to do the same." She gave a small, bitter laugh. "It wasn't until I grew older that I realized it wasn't romantic at all."

"Your name isn't from a Shadowhunter family I'm familiar with."

"That's because Christina Andersen isn't my real name."

Before Magnus could probe her further, the girl suddenly broke into a run toward one of the warehouses where a body was slumped against the metal shutter. He watched as she knelt to the ground and pulled the limp form so that their head rested on her lap; she swept black strands of hair from their face.

"Jesus, Vivian!" she cried. "You were supposed to stay inside."

As Magnus came closer, he could see the sweat shining on Vivian's face, the blood she expelled past her sallow lips as she tried to find her words and the dark red stain at the collar of her blouse which streaked down the sleeve.

Speaking with a raspy voice, Vivian said, "I thought... I thought we were back in Phoenix." She touched a skeletal hand to Christina's face and Magnus noticed that her nails had been ripped from their beds.

"The werewolf bite is causing her to hallucinate," he advised as he crouched down and balanced on the balls of his feet, his elbows resting on his knees. The leather jacket he was wearing earlier had been replaced with a long trench coat and the hem dragged in the rivulets of dirty water and blood which lined the cracks in the concrete.

"We're in Brooklyn, remember?" Christina said, taking Vivian's hand. The way she held it, with such tenderness in her grip and ease in her touch, made Magnus question whether there was more than friendship between them.

The vampire slowly blinked as she reassessed her true surroundings. "But it felt so real." Her bloodshot eyes were sunken in their sockets and, upon discerning Magnus, she narrowed them. "Who's this?"

Magnus gestured to himself, cobalt blue flames playing gently at his fingertips. " _This_ is Magnus Bane –"

"You told a warlock?" Vivian hissed to Christina as she tried to scramble away from him, lacking all the grace that vampires usually possessed.

"The High Warlock of Brooklyn, actually," corrected Magnus, the flames vanishing. "And whilst I enjoy spending my time in alleyways, I haven't got all evening."

"He can help you, Viv," explained Christina, blinking away the presentiment which brimmed to her lashes.

"Why?" Vivian asked, her eyes flitting back to Magnus.

"Why would I help you or why do I like hanging about in alleyways? Because if you're asking the latter, that was just sarcasm."

"Why would you help me?" She winced as she tried adjusting her positioning. "Why didn't you tell the Clave?"

"That's down to your leader."

"Our leader isn't –" Vivian suddenly stopped herself and glowered.

Magnus rose to his feet. "Isn't here," he finished. "I'm aware. Nor is she the most compassionate of your kind. But if you wish to tell her upon her return, then say now so I can get back to what I was doing." Magnus straightened his coat before adding, "Which was arguably more important than this."

Although Vivian's face contorted with pain every time she moved, she found the strength to turn it to Christina's. An invisible rope pulled taut between them and, as they shared silent words, Magnus questioned again the status of their friendship. This subtle glance between them reminded him of others he'd encountered in the past. The exchange had always made sense before; it had always felt right between the two people involved. Yet this time there was something different about the circumstances. For whatever reason, it didn't make sense – or rather, it shouldn't make sense. And yet, despite Magnus's immediate response telling him the situation was wrong, he was intrigued with the possibility of how it could be right. A friendship between a vampire and a werewolf was rare, but to have a connection like theirs, a bond stronger than two best friends and yet completely platonic, was impossible. At least, it was amongst Downworlders.

Only a few seconds later, Christina nodded, her jaw held bravely. Vivian mimicked the action as best as she could in her feeble state and then turned back to Magnus, using Christina's body for support.

She licked her dry lips before she spoke. "You could get in trouble if anyone finds out about this. The Clave would expect you to tell them."

"Perhaps I would have done if the werewolf that bit you had been a rogue. But since neither of you want to tell your leaders, I'm guessing that the lycanthrope belongs to your pack." Magnus looked pointedly at Christina. "And despite their wrong doing, you fear for their safety, too."

"It was stupid. He asked me out and I said no because I had other plans." Christina bit her lip and cast a worried look at Vivian. "So he followed me and... He just lost control. He didn't mean it."

Vivian opened her mouth as if to retort but was interrupted by a series of unrelenting coughs. Clotted, red liquid spluttered from her throat and down her chin, giving off an acrid smell. Her eyes lost focus as she released her grip on Christina and her muscles began to spasm uncontrollably.

"Viv! Vivian!" Christina cried, trying to restrain her frenzied limbs.

"Out of the way," Magnus commanded. He didn't need to shout the order; the firmness of his tone warned Christina enough not to argue. After she had shuffled back, Magnus kneeled down in front of Vivian and brought his hands toward her.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Christina demanded in alarm.

Magnus flashed a dangerous glance at her. "In case you've forgotten, you asked me to save your friend's life –" He resisted the urge to swear in every language he knew as he felt two needles pierce his forearm. Looking back at his patient, he found her mouth clamped around him, secured by her long canines.

A surge of magic passed down Magnus's arm and Vivian responded to it as if it were an electric current: her jaw snapped open and she flew forcibly back, her body slamming against the metal shutter behind her.

"Vivian!" screamed Christina, scrambling from the ground to her feet. Before she could run, Magnus cast blue bolts at her legs, temporarily paralyzing them. A rabid growl escaped Christina's lips and she breathed heavily through her nostrils, her irises blazing amber.

"She's _fine._ It was just a little zap," Magnus stressed, holding his hands up to aid his extenuation. "Just don't even think about Changing, otherwise things will get very ugly, very fast."

Without waiting for a response, Magnus advanced over to the crumpled form which looked alarmingly dead, even for a vampire. He ripped the sleeve from Vivian's blouse and gently brushed his fingers over the wounded area, assessing the extent of the damage. A deep gash ran across her upper arm, oozing viscous blood and pus. The bite had ripped into her muscle and Magnus noticed how the tissue tried to knit itself back together, only to quickly burn away again and worsen the wound. The disease was spreading; the flesh around the wound bubbled and the skin of her arm, her chest, and her neck, he realized, was inflamed and peeling.

Magnus closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he opened his hands over the source of the infection and felt a warm sensation flow from his palms. As he began to mutter a healing spell under his breath, flames crackled from his fingertips. They challenged the heat of the wound and when Magnus spoke louder, the blaze grew bigger, coalescing under his touch. Behind him he could hear Christina's screams. The momentary distraction caused his fire to dwindle and for a brief moment he thought the precarious strings holding onto Vivian's life had slipped from his mental grip. Drowning out the noise, he focused on the incantation, the movement of his mouth and the inferno growing beneath his hands. He chanted the Latin words in a sonorous voice, power rippling through his veins and exuding from his body. He bellowed the last line of the spell and then, almost instantly, the flames diminished. Upon opening his eyes, he was pleased (but not overly surprised) to see the wound had sealed and the skin had returned to its former pallor.

Drained yet smug with his handiwork, Magnus rose slowly to his feet. He snapped his fingers, releasing Christina from her restraints and the girl ran over.

Stumbling to the ground at Vivian's side, Christina grabbed the vampire's pale hand and held it to her face. "Viv?" she whispered fearfully.

Vivian's eyelids snapped open. The sclera of her eyes were no longer bloodshot; her pupils were wide and alert. They flitted between Christina and Magnus, seemingly oblivious to the fangs bursting from her gums and slicing her lower lip.

From the inside of his jacket, Magnus pulled out a blood bag, courtesy of Raphael's negligence. He passed it to Vivian, who snatched the pouch from him and sank her teeth into the plastic.

Once she had drunk the bag dry, she tossed it onto the ground and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Thanks," she muttered awkwardly, folding her arms. "You didn't have to do that."

"As much as I would like to take all the credit, I was just doing what I was paid to do," Magnus said, stifling a yawn.

Vivian's head snapped around to her friend's. "Chrissy?"

Christina shrugged. "I gave him my mother's ring."

"Just when I thought I'd repaid my debt to you," she murmured, pulling Christina in for a tight embrace.

Despite their natural instincts to repel each other, the pair fitted together with ease, like the positive poles of a magnet lying perfectly adjacent. There was nothing romantic about their companionship but Magnus couldn't deny the harmonious balance between them.

For not the first time in his life, he questioned whether the blood of a Downworlder was only part demon. The Nephilim repudiated the existence of part-fae Shadowhunters, even if one stood before them bearing runes on their skin which would be fatal to the Fair Folk. They weren't impossible, as much as "pure-blood" Shadowhunters wanted them to be. Was it such a profanity to consider the idea that Shadowhunters and Downworlders had the blood of both angels and demons - that they were merely defined by the one which predominated their veins? It was well-known that Shadowhunter blood ringed true, but hadn't the Nephilim been proven wrong before? It was once believed that a Shadowhunter could not bear the child of a demon, until a unique warlock proved this to be false. What Magnus had learnt from seeing impossible things is that they weren't impossible at all, but rather people chose not to see them. People didn't believe in things that weren't supposed to be true.

"That must have been some debt," Magnus remarked, dusting off his hands and causing glitter to cascade to the ground.

Christina pulled away from the embrace, her expression hidden in the tenebrous alleyway. "We were attacked one time before."

"It was after _me,_ " Vivian corrected. "You just couldn't help getting involved."

"Viv reckons it was a rogue," Christina's explained and, as she lifted her hands to gesture plainly to herself, moonlight filtered from the strip of sky above them and cast across her face. "I was the unlucky one then."

Vivian's expression was hard. "She saved my life."

"And I gather," Magnus concluded, rocking back slowly on his heels, "that the Nephilim were no longer accommodating?"

His words struck a chord with Vivian, whose lips, still stained a merlot red, pulled back over her teeth. "Self-righteous bastards," she snarled, climbing to her feet with Christina's support. "They sing the Angel Raziel's praises like he's some kind of God. But he stops giving a fuck about you when you're no longer one of them. What kind of God is that?"

Christina took her friend's hand and squeezed it. "My father told me to leave, but not before he took the ring from my mother's hand and forced it onto mine, knowing it would hurt me. The pain was supposed to be a reminder of his love which I no longer deserved and that there was only one way to stop it burning and regain his love." Following a shaky breath, she continued, "He gave the ring to me so that I might give my life for his happiness. And I wore that darn thing every day until I got used to the pain. _Do ut des._ " She glanced fondly at Vivian before turning back to Magnus. "I gave you the ring so that you would give me something in return: my best friend."

Magnus gave a slight bow and winked. "If it's any consolation, the last time I spoke to my father was nearly eighty years ago and he hasn't cared one bit. Neither have I for that matter."

Vivian crossed her arms scathingly. "How old _are_ you? I've met a warlock before and he looked old. Like, really old."

"I use anti-wrinkle cream. What do you use?"

"We're both really grateful," Christina interjected hurriedly, kicking Vivian in the ankle.

Magnus waved an apathetic hand as he began to walk away, lacking the energy to come up with a sardonic response. As he walked, Christina called his name one last time.

"When are the werewolves next getting an invite to one of your parties?" She asked with a playful grin.

"I'll throw one tomorrow, so long as you don't bring any trouble makers with you," he called over his shoulder as he strode away, his boots echoing off the ground he covered. As he made his way home, he decided against informing Raphael on the incident involving a member from his Clan. "Justice" among Downworlders, namely vampires and werewolves, tended to involve finding and then killing the culprit, rather than prioritizing the victim of their kind. For, more often than not, their death could be used as an excuse to seek revenge on the perpetrators - an excuse which many mistook as their right to act upon. Except, it wasn't a right at all. Magnus knew retaliation to be just as worse as the first act committed. Needless to say, the Clave cared little for the loss of a few Downworlders - even if those Downworlders had once been Shadowhunter - and Magnus had long since realized the inexorable truth that their primary concern was for their own: the children of Raziel.

When Magnus arrived at the steps leading to his apartment, conscious of the time he had left, he hadn't anticipated on finding a mundane standing outside his door. He stopped abruptly. Although it wasn't every day a prepossessing, young man appeared on his doorstep, now was the worst time for it to happen.

Straining his magic to form a glamour, Magnus quietly observed the man who was pressing intently on the buzzer for the apartment, his face flushed with a mixture of vitality and fear. He reminded Magnus of Edmund Herondale, from the mundane's mass of fair hair to his light blue eyes. Although, his physique was slightly less impressive and he lacked the Shadowhunter's buoyancy, instead giving the impression that he held the world on his hunched shoulders.

Following several more pointless attempts, the man trod dejectedly down the steps, a despairing hand pushed through his hair. But then he stopped and it took Magnus a moment to realize that, despite his glamour, this mundane was looking straight at him

Knowing he'd been caught in the act of attempting to hide, Magnus cleared his throat awkwardly. "Are you… looking for someone?"

The man stared at him with startled eyes that were made all the more endearing by an unmistakable English accent. "Yes, but I… I think I may have found them."

At first, Magnus had been amused by the mundane's response, yet what he'd mistaken for awe turned out to be the complete opposite when he remembered the begrimed and bloodied state of his coat. "Why are you here?" he asked, in an attempt to divert the mundane's attention.

"Are you Mr. Bane?"

"To what does it concern you?"

The man swallowed nervously and held out a hand. "Jeremy," he introduced, keeping a steady voice. "And I need your help."


	3. Chapter 3

If he had been in better form, Magnus would have laughed, turned the man into a clown and asked him to tell more jokes about mundanes needing help from warlocks (even better if he started the joke with a "knock knock"). Instead, he just stared, waiting for the part where the mundane would tell him that he really was joking, that he just wanted him to perform a few tricks at his kid's birthday party, or that he'd been directed here for a good night with no strings attached (to which Magnus would have had to politely decline on this occasion).

But Jeremy did neither of those things and Magnus reluctantly came to the realization that he was completely serious about needing his help.

And it was always harder to say no to someone's face.

"Magnus Bane? Never heard of the guy, though he sounds like a total catch."

Jeremy kept his hand lifted, his confidence increasing each time he spoke. "Catarina told me who to look out for."

Magnus cursed internally; this wasn't the first time his friend had landed him in a situation like this. "And I suppose she told you I'd agree to whatever it is you need help with?"

"Will you?"

With a hesitant glance at Jeremy's hand, he said, "Can this wait until tomorrow? Now isn't a great time."

The last of the light in Jeremy's eyes extinguished and they stared at Magnus, hollow and lifeless. "Tomorrow," he murmured eventually and he lowered his arm. "I don't think she has until tomorrow." And from the intense sorrow that filled the void of Jeremy's pupils, Magnus knew that he meant it.

"Don't tell me," Magnus sighed, "She's the love of your life."

A wistful smile curled up on one side of Jeremy's mouth. "She's the love of my entire existence. In this life and the next."

Magnus could have reasoned that, having done one good deed already that day, a second wasn't necessary. He could have argued with his heart which already seemed to hold a soft spot for this mundane and somehow found the strength to say no to his lachrymose pleas. However, it was the thought of trying to enjoy his date with blood on hands which finalized his decision.

"ALRIGHT! Fine!" Magnus suddenly exclaimed, grabbing the mundane's hand. "You win. But don't think it's because I like you."

Jeremy shook with such vigor that Magnus thought his arm would come out of its socket. "Thank you," he cried breathlessly, a newfound hope in his eyes, "Mr. Bane, if I could kiss you, I would."

Once Jeremy had let go, Magnus flexed his sore fingers. "Firstly, tempting offer but no thank you. At least not today. Secondly, don't call me that again. Ever. I'd sooner be called "Magnus the Magnificent". And third, I haven't even done anything yet. Except say yes, which I'm beginning to regret." When Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Magnus held up his hand to continue, "Which leads me on to the question of what it is I'm going to be dealing with."

Jeremy took a palpitated breath. "Demon attack."

"I don't mean to sound crude but you're not asking me to revive a dead mundane, are you? Because magic like that is dark and I'm not in the mood for it tonight. Nor for the rest of this century."

"She's still alive," Jeremy said with a pale expression. "She managed to escape but... but she's badly hurt."

Magnus studied Jeremy's face carefully. "Something tells me that the love of your life isn't like you."

With a sudden blush in his cheeks, Jeremy said, "I trust that you'll keep this information confidential. For her sake, not mine."

"As if anyone cares what I have to say," Magnus muttered, turning back toward his apartment.

"Wait! Where are you going?" called Jeremy.

"To write a very apologetic note to my date," Magnus answered as he climbed the steps to the entryway. "In the meantime, try not to attract anymore of Hell's denizens."

* * *

Magnus sprinted up the stairwell two steps at a time, irked at his weak heart for having pity on a mundane and perplexed as to how his perfectly planned day had gone so wrong. He checked his cell: Alec was due to arrive in 20 minutes. With any luck, he'd be late again and would never have to read the note Magnus was having to leave on his front door.

Bursting into his loft, Magnus ran over to a cabinet at the far end of the room and pocketed a vile of chartreuse gold liquid. In another cabinet, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a vacillating swig; alcohol wasn't the best way to rejuvenate his energy but he had little time for the alternative method of sleeping.

"You better not be here, Raphael, or so help me!" he called, screwing the cap onto the bottle again and placing it back in the cabinet. The silence which followed was a blessing and Magnus exhaled with the relief of at least one thing going right today. Conjuring a piece of paper and a pen in his hands, he knelt at his coffee table and began to write, " _To my handsome date_ _–_ " He scrunched up the paper and started again on a fresh sheet. " _Alexander –_ " His hand jolted from the sound of the buzzer and a line of ink shot across the page at a tangent. He cursed inelegantly and stormed over to the intercom where he snatched up the receiver.

"I DON'T CARE WHETHER YOUR GOLDFISH HAS DIED OR YOUR HEAD HAS FALLEN OFF. IF YOU DARE REMAIN ON THESE PREMISES THEN EXPECT TO FACE THE WRATH OF BANE –"

"Oh… I… we can do this another day."

Magnus's heart stopped at the familiar voice which filtered through the speaker. Their words were crackled but there was no mistaking the speaker.

"Alec," he breathed and he rested his forehead against the wall as he felt a tension he'd been unaware of dissolve from his muscles.

"It's okay if you have other plans… I had stuff to do anyway…"

"No, no, no!" Magnus exclaimed; the desperation in his own voice made him cringe. "Everything's fine. Today has just been unusually busy –"

"Who's the blond guy you were speaking with? The mundane."

Magnus scrunched his eye lids together, realizing he had more to justify than he initially thought. "It's not what you think, Alec. Come in, I'll explain."

Although he received no response, Magnus buzzed in his date and opened the door to his loft. Standing patiently in the doorway, he listened to the sound of Alec's footsteps ascending the stairs. He was very much aware that his hair was sticking up at all sorts of angles and that the sleeves of his coat were stained with brown streaks of blood but there was little he could do about that now.

Alec didn't look at him until he reached the final step, where he paused and shoved his hands in his pockets. His shoulders were rigid and there was an uneasiness to the way he held his head, framed by locks of soft, black hair that Magnus's fingers twitched to touch. He refrained himself.

"You're early," Magnus said at last, breaking the stillness between them.

Alec's chin fell. "I was going to hang around until eight," he said, his eyebrows furrowing. "But then I saw you with that mundie and..." He didn't finish.

Magnus noticed how Alec's black flannel shirt contrasted greatly to his porcelain skin so that he looked like a fragile statue, despite the strength Magnus knew he had. "I only just met the mundane," Magnus explained, taking a step toward Alec. "He came to me because his _girlfriend_ has been attacked by a demon."

Alec's head shot up at the univocal term, his eyes sharp and alert like bolts of blue lightening.

"I – reluctantly, might I add – agreed to help her."

"Oh," Alec murmured, relaxing his posture. "And she isn't dead?"

"She isn't a mundane."

Alec contemplated his words with a pensive nod before hastily asking, "Can I come?"

"I don't see why not," Magnus replied, a wry grin playing on his lips. "Besides, who else is going to save us if this demon returns?"

A blush rose to Alec's cheeks as he mumbled diffidently about Magnus being more than capable at fighting off a demon and how he was still just training himself.

Magnus waved off his modesty. "Training or not, you helped kill a Greater Demon. Not every eighteen-year-old can say that."

"Um… seventeen," Alec corrected with a worried glance.

Containing his slight surprise, Magnus shrugged and claimed that it was practically the same age anyway. When it came to dating, Magnus had always followed the rule that anyone under 18 was a complete no go (and even that age was still considerably young compared to someone who had lived as long as him). Yet there was something refreshing about dating a mortal whose life had barely begun. For no matter how many times Magnus had seen the world, it always looked different – better, somehow – through the eyes of a new beholder. Alec Lightwood wasn't far off the mark and, if Magnus were being honest, he'd thought he was at least a couple of years older than what he actually was. Exceptions would have to be made; he couldn't take back the wink he'd given Alec at his party, nor did he want to for that matter.

"Yeah, you're right." Alec's face broke into a relieved grin. "I'm eighteen soon but I was still kind of worried about telling you that."

"Why would you be worried?"

"Because you're way older than me. Probably. I mean you don't look it but most warlocks have lived a while."

Magnus suppressed a chuckle. "How many warlocks have you met?"

There was a flush of awkwardness on Alec's face as he confessed that he hadn't met many at all. "None like you, anyway." Taking his hands out of his pockets, Alec tried wiping them discretely on the front of his jeans. He swallowed consciously. "Sorry for overreacting just now. It was pretty stupid."

"Just a little," Magnus agreed, but he was smiling.

This time, Alec took a step forward. "Can we start again?"

His request, although unnecessary, was asked with the same direct tone he'd used when he'd asked to go out with him. It was completely serious and devoid of guile, and Magnus found himself wondering whether, behind his veracity and resolute exterior, his heart still pounded from being so sincere with someone like him, a Downworlder? For perhaps if it did, then surely it meant that he was something more to Alec than just a fleeting romantic interest.

"Do you mean from when I opened the door or when you pressed my buzzer?" Magnus asked, stepping back into his loft. "And I didn't mean for that to sound as inappropriate as it did."

"You can just open the door again," replied Alec, who still didn't seem to know how to react to his flirtatious comments, intentional or not.

Magnus closed the door and changed his coat for a leather jacket with a snap of his fingers. As he waited for his cue, his head felt suddenly too light to be on his shoulders and he placed a hand against the wall for support. He was strangely disorientated, but he shook the waves of dizziness from his head upon hearing Alec's knock. When Magnus opened the door, he was presented with a seraphic smile spread across his date's face.

"Alec Lightwood," he purred, leaning against the door frame to steady himself. "You're early."

He saw the animation spark in Alec's face and it wasn't until after his mouth had shaped the words of a full sentence that it occurred to Magnus he couldn't hear his voice or even the sound of his own breathing which felt heavy in his chest. Almost instantly, his vision became clouded with black spots and Magnus quickly lost awareness of which direction gravity was pulling. He felt himself falling but wasn't entirely certain on where the ground was. Yet instead of his body slamming against a cold surface, he was vaguely aware of two, strong arms around him, holding him with a tight tenderness. They helped him hold on to his consciousness and he could feel their warmth spread through him, as if transferring energy that he seemed to be depleted of.

The sound of Alec saying his name marked the return of his hearing and Magnus blinked away the last of the fog before his eyes. He soon established that part of his body was on the floor and the other part was sprawled on Alec, who looked uncomfortably positioned in a half squat with his arms still wrapped firmly around Magnus. His face was full of concern and the realization that this young Shadowhunter seemed to care so much made Magnus grateful once more that Alec had shown up at his party that night.

"Are you okay?" There was a tone of doubt in Alec's voice. "Should I get help? You have warlock friends, right?"

Managing a smile, Magnus brought one of Alec's hands from underneath his back and placed it onto his cheek. Energy pulsated from his palm and Magnus tried to find an explanation for the strength which this simple touch brought him. "I'm _fine_. I just went a bit overboard with the magic. It happens."

Alec's fingers quivered against his cheek bone and when he apologized for being nervous, Magnus placed a hand over his and told him the apology wasn't necessary.

"Sorry," Alec said again and his face screwed up with embarrassment.

"Alexander, if you don't stop saying sorry I'm going to have to kiss you to make you stop."

It was a harmless threat but one that made Alec's body stiffen. "What, now? Right here?"

Magnus shrugged a casual shoulder despite the flutter of his awakened heart. "If you want."

"Mr. Bane?" A voice called from the bottom of the stairwell which made them both jump. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yes, Jeremy," Magnus shouted wearily. "But I told you not to call me that." He turned back to Alec with a rueful grin. "Perhaps when we have a little more privacy?" he suggested, knowing that if he were to kiss Alec now he might never stop.

"Sure," agreed Alec, but he only half returned a smile of which seemed neither relieved nor disappointed.

After he'd helped him to his feet, Magnus inhaled deeply, feeling much stronger than he had before Alec's arrival.

"Are you sure you can do this?" asked Alec, hastily letting go of Magnus's sleeve when he realized he was still holding it.

"If I don't, then who will?" Magnus's eyes fell to the crease in his jacket where Alec's hand had been, hoping that the energy he'd given him would be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Magnus took the lead back down the stairs and Alec followed closely behind – not enough for them to touch, but enough for the Shadowhunter to be able to catch him again if he were to fall. Although that was a comforting thought, Magnus could sense that his date was being too conscious of the distance he put between them. Alec Lightwood, he'd come to realize, was overly aware of space: he was careful about where he put his hands and what he touched; he was mindful of the way he passed from A to B and where he positioned himself in relation to other people. Magnus wanted to believe that Alec was just annoyingly polite or that this was a trait he'd adopted as a demon hunter. But he knew the truth wasn't as simple as that.

They found Jeremy a little way off from the apartment, standing on the curb and trying desperately to hail a cab. He turned at the sound of their footsteps, only to hesitate upon seeing Alec.

Magnus cleared his throat awkwardly; he hated introductions. "Alec, Jeremy. Jeremy, Alec," he said, gesturing lackadaisically between them. "Any questions? No? Good. There's no time for them anyway." As he whistled for a taxi, he heard Jeremy ask Alec if he, too, were a warlock – an innocuous question to a mundane. The Shadowhunter's response, though, was nothing more than an affronted snort and the painful silence which followed signified his aversion to elaborating on the subject.

"Not exactly," Magnus answered cautiously. The extent to Jeremy's knowledge of their world was uncertain and so Magnus knew he needed to choose his words carefully. "Alec is… a friend. Well, actually he's a little more than a friend. He's my -" But the look of alarm which Alec gave him made the word 'date' dissolve in his mouth. "Bodyguard," he finished spontaneously. "Of a sort. But let's not waste time over technicalities." Having caught the attention of a speeding cab, Magnus ushered the others towards it, trying to forget the last image of Alec's face that was now printed in his mind and trying to remind himself that it would take more than two dates for Alec to be more accepting of who he was, let alone be open about it.

As the taxi pulled up beside them, Magnus turned to Jeremy. "The East River, I gather?"

"Not directly but… Wait, how did you know?"

"Know what?" He smiled knowingly but Jeremy said nothing. "There's a reason why I'm the High Warlock of Brooklyn." Opening the car door for Alec, he added, "And your clothes reek of seaweed. I've been around and dated a lot and that smell is the reason why I've never dated your girlfriend's kind."

He slid into the cab after Alec and his eyes fell to the Shadowhunter's hand resting on the seat between them. Curved lines of black ink - markings of the Voyance rune - were visible under the fraying cuff of his shirt and Magnus considered wrapping his own hand around it. He would be incredibly discrete about the whole thing: their hands would be hidden under his coat, away from curious eyes and they would both stare out of the window, sneaking the occasional glance at the same time if they were lucky. It would be something to keep him going at least.

"You again?"

Magnus looked up to find the face of the same driver from earlier that day, looking him up and down in amusement; his trademark mustache was unmistakable and Magnus took guiltless pleasure in imagining all the ways he could reattach the straggled mass of hair sitting above his lip to his balding head after he'd ripped the hideous thing off.

"I live here," Magnus stated dryly. "It's me who should be asking you that question."

Mr. Mustache, however, disregarded the remark upon noticing Alec and his entire face lit with interest. "Hey, this must be the feller you were telling me about!"

Alec was staring through the window as if he hadn't heard a thing, yet the flush on his cheeks said otherwise.

Ignorant to the delicacy of their relationship, Mr. Mustache continued, "And where you heading? Movies, wasn't it?"

But before Magnus could retort with something witty or offensive (the latter sounded more tempting) Jeremy had slipped into the front passenger seat and requested that the driver take them to the end of the McGuinness Boulevard under the Pulaski Bridge.

"Is this feller with you, too?" Mr. Moustache asked in surprise, thrusting a thumb at Jeremy.

"Yes but don't ask questions," Magnus said as he looked for Alec's hand again and found it had retreated to his lap, out of reach. "Just drive."

The Pulaski Bridge was a means of crossing over Newton Creek, a long estuary between Brooklyn and Queens that lead onto the East River. It was used excessively for the disposal of toxic waste and the gallons of oil and raw sewage which had spilt into its waters were almost immeasurable. It was an odd place to find a girlfriend but Magnus wasn't one to judge – he'd kept company with creatures from hell dimensions before.

They drove for a while, the three of them listening to the cab driver's nonsense and only speaking when asked a question (not that they could get a word in edgeways even if they wanted to). Alec moved only once during the entire journey and that had been when Magnus started to run a ball of blue flames through his fingers out of sheer boredom. He saw him smile just before the light had extinguished from his hand; it seemed that even the simplest of magic was exhausting.

Alec looked at him as if to say, _Are you sure you're okay?_

Truthfully, Magnus wasn't; he needed a long bath in a room filled with candles and incense, followed by a long foot massage and about a day's worth of sleep. But he couldn't change his mind now; he had no choice but to do it. And trying wasn't an option.

Magnus tried to convey this message to Alec in one wink but, judging by the way he turned his head shyly, the Shadowhunter had clearly misinterpreted its meaning. Damn his winking.

When they finally arrived at the end of the boulevard, Alec was the first to get out of the vehicle, followed by a lethargic Magnus who asked Jeremy that he pay the cab driver enough to make him wait for their return and cover the cost of the journey home.

"This is romantic," Magnus murmured to Alec once he was standing next to him.

"You think?" The way Alec rubbed his arm made it look like he was cold but Magnus knew this wasn't the case. He looked up at him through his eyelashes, smiling.

"I know it's not exactly ideal but –"

"I don't mind." Alec's voice was earnest. "I like going on missions with you."

There were some people who might have said that to Magnus just to please him; there was nothing fun or beautiful or romantic about saving someone from a demon attack. However, when the words came from Alec, it was clear that he wasn't one of these people. And it was exactly because Alec wouldn't have thought it was fun or beautiful or romantic that Magnus knew he meant what he said. Life as a Shadowhunter was nothing of the sort. But fighting, protecting and serving justice was in their blood. It was something they all had in common and something they all enjoyed doing together.

Alec was the first Shadowhunter who said he enjoyed doing it with him. And that was what made him different from the others.

The slam of the cab door alerted them to Jeremy's readiness and they waited for him to take the lead before following.

They walked alongside the thick, concrete beams that supported the Pulaski Bridge, passing through a wired fence which had been ripped from its metal post. The carpark they'd snuck into was completely desolate, though the noise of cars crossing the bridge overhead could still be heard. It had become a lot darker since they'd left the apartment and Magnus found himself glancing over his shoulder every so often, just to be sure that no demons were stalking them.

When they reached the end of the enclosed area, Jeremy scaled up the fence effortlessly – presumably he'd done this several times before. Magnus gripped onto the metal wiring reluctantly, wondering if he had the strength to pull himself up.

"I'm right behind you," Alec reassured, as if he could read his thoughts. It was all the strength he needed

They made it over without too many problems and when Magnus landed, his feet squelched into wet earth. Considering the day that he'd had, he didn't let the feel of his toes scrunching in wet socks bother him too much. He'd been looking for an excuse to dispose of these shoes, anyway.

Alec dropped beside him with a lot more grace which would have irritated Magnus if he hadn't been a Shadowhunter he liked.

"What are we doing here?" Alec whispered to him. Aside from the distant traffic overhead, the only other noise was the gentle sloshing of water against the bank they stood on. It was too dark to see how far away the river was but Jeremy had walked on without hesitation.

"You haven't guessed?" As Magnus spoke, he was momentarily blinded by a white glow that radiated from Alec's palm. When the light dimmed, the smooth shape of a witchlight stone became visible in his hand and it illuminated the area around them.

"I have a hunch," Alec replied as they walked down the short slope to the river.

Jeremy was crouched at the water's edge, one hand skimming the surface. He splashed the water gently at first, before pushing his hand in further and swishing it back and forth. As he did, a sweet, ominous melody began to whistle past his lips and Magnus and Alec both looked at each other with disconcertion.

They waited patiently, not wanting to doubt the mundane despite his aberrant behavior.

"She's not here," Jeremy said eventually, rising slowly to his feet.

"We're standing at one of the most polluted sites in the US. I'd be surprised if we found anyone's girlfriend here," Magnus muttered.

"No, no you don't understand," he stammered as he turned to face him. "This is where we always meet. This is where I told her to wait and -" He gasped low, his eyes wide with alarm. "What if it came back? What if – what if the demon came back and b-because of me she -" Without finishing his sentence, he was already running into the water.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Magnus called out to him, scratching his head. His hair felt sticky to touch and Magnus dreaded to think about the obscenities he would find in it when he looked in the mirror later. "Don't expect us to come after you!"

But Jeremy hadn't heard him, for he'd already submerged himself entirely under the water.

"Mundies can swim, right?" Alec asked hesitantly.

"I hope so," answered Magnus, speaking with slightly more cheer in his voice than he intended. "We could always eat him if it turns out they can't." But he hurriedly declared he was joking before Alec could think for a second that he was being serious.

"How do we know if this mundane is for real?" Alec challenged, holding his hand out to the gloom before them. The glow from his witchlight reflected from the water, highlighting the ripples in its surface. "What if there's nothing down there at all?"

"I don't think a mundane could conjure such a fable, especially one as naïve as him."

"Why not? Faeries have been known to tamper with mundanes' minds for their sick amusement. It wouldn't surprise me if they were breaking the Accords again."

"Because I know love when I see it," Magnus replied calmly, watching the desperation in Alec's eyes soften as he took in his words. "And I know there is no spell, potion, nor dark magic which can make someone love someone the way Jeremy does. She exists. Trust me."

"I do," said Alec, almost like a plea. "But maybe we should go back to the Institute and -"

His voice broke off as their attention was caught by a breakthrough in the surface: Jeremy had risen from the water, carrying a lifeless form in his arms. He staggered forward, splashing noisily as he dragged his body out of the estuary.

Without finishing his sentence, Alec rushed over to help him, taking half the weight of the bundle in his arms and helping him to lower it once they had neared the bank. Magnus walked slowly toward them, already fearing the worst.

There were only a handful of memories Magnus had of mermaids. It was by no means a secret that they could be found in the East River and he could remember seeing one at a meeting for the Accords 150 years ago. From what he could remember, they were mesmerizing creatures with pearls strewn in their long tresses and tails that shimmered with iridescent scales.

What Magnus saw before him now was far from these beautiful images. Her face, though it may have once been appealing, was marred by long gashes that shone a shocking shade of red in comparison to her sickly pallor. They continued down her body, spilling blood over the string of grey pearls around her neck and the two cracked shells which cupped her breasts. But it was her tail that suffered the most damage: a gaping wound ran almost the length of it, stripping the mermaid of hundreds of tiny purple scales that weren't likely to regrow with the same beauty. That was assuming, of course, that Magnus would be able to save her.

He didn't need to look at Jeremy to know that he was crying. Nor did he need to ask him to know that his tears were the foreboding thoughts of his beloved's fate. Magnus hated seeing people cry; it pulled at his heart and distracted him from his task. On the days he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, tears would offend him; weeping was a sign of giving up and Magnus didn't like his ability to be doubted. Sometimes, if he'd woken up on the right side, he would offer consolation. But seeing the life he had to save before him now, Magnus knew that just looking at Jeremy would turn the mundane's worst fears into the reality that they were.

 _The first one is always the hardest,_ Magnus thought, recalling the words he'd been told long after the death of his first love, for whom he'd grieved for thirty years. Now, he couldn't even remember her face. There was a precious handful of people Magnus had fallen in love with. Though his first had been the only one to pass away, he'd cried over them all, as Jeremy did now for his love. It then came to Magnus with a wounding realization that they probably wouldn't have said the same about him. Not when they had been the ones to break his heart. And behind all the spells and calculations and probabilities that had started to formulate in his mind to save this dying Downworlder, Magnus wondered whether anyone had ever cried over the thought of losing him before.

"It's not possible to save everyone," said Magnus finally. "Even with magic."

"But you can still try!" Jeremy protested, despondent tears streaming down his face. "Please." His expression looked wretched as he stroked the mermaid's platinum blond tresses; they trailed down to her waist and were matted with seaweed and blood.

Magnus nodded wearily. "I can try."

"I should scout the area," Alec announced and he pulled out the hilt of a seraph blade from under the waistline of his jeans. "The demon could still be near."

"No, Alec," Magnus said and he was surprised by the forceful tone in which the words were said. Alec, too, it appeared, judging by the stunned look on his face. "I didn't bring you out here so that you could get hurt."

After a moment's pause, Alec replied, "I know," before pulling out the weapon fully and stalking back the way they came.

Magnus waited with a guilty heart for the sound of Alec landing on the other side of the fence before returning his attention to his patient. His mind was starting to work faster now and he began pulling back the sticky hair that clung to her body. "Jeremy, I need you to stand aside."

"But, I –"

"Unless you want me to risk killing both you and your mermaid, then I suggest you do as I say!"

Jeremy crawled back reluctantly, holding onto the ends of her tresses until they slipped through his fingers. "Amatheia." His words were choked. "Her name is Amatheia."

Barely acknowledging him, Magnus pulled out the vile he'd brought from the apartment and unscrewed the cap with his teeth. Before Jeremy could question him, he said, "To numb the pain if she wakes," and pressed the glass to the mermaid's lips. The liquid stained them yellow and soaked into the cracks.

Magnus's hands shook as he raised them above Amatheia; he was both weak and afraid that he would fail. In a way, her death would seem like his fault. Even though he hadn't been the one to take her life away, he would be the one who couldn't give it back. He was the final hope, the miracle that everyone depended on. The reason why, when death won anyway, it hurt more than if there hadn't been any hope at all. Everybody lost someone at some point in their life, no matter how cruel and unfair it was. Magnus had lost many someones; he didn't want to be the reason why somebody lost theirs.

The words of a foreign language passed freely from his lips. He spoke of demons and blood, of healing and love. And when blue fire exploded from his palms, he could hear Jeremy wailing in the distance, calling out for his Amatheia, willing her to wake up, begging her not to leave him. Every muscle in Magnus's body shook as magic was extracted through his fingertips. Even when he could taste the metallic drops of blood which dripped from his nose, he didn't stop. Even when he tried to stop, he couldn't

It was too late by then.

Blood spluttered from Magnus's mouth as a burning sensation coursed up both his arms and the spell took control of him. His mouth moved on its own accord, bellowing the incantations to rid the mermaid of demon poison. Despite the determination of his body, Magnus's mind became drowsy and in his weakened state, his thoughts flickered to Alec – the blue-eyed angel who had caught him when he fell. The memory of his touch now was like breaking through water and inhaling oxygen; recalling the warmth of his hand on his cheek was like the sensation of methamphetamine flowing through his veins, awakening and energizing every nerve in his body. And when he remembered every kiss he shared with Alec – from their first on his doorstep, to their latest on his living room floor – Magnus found himself regaining focus. His muscles still screamed and his bones felt like they would shatter at any moment but somehow, he managed to hold on for the rest of the spell, pouring every ounce of himself into it.

When at last Amatheia gasped into consciousness, his magic extinguished itself and Magnus fell into an exhausted heap on the ground.

Before he could allow himself to pass out, a slimy hand gripped his wrist. With his head lying in the grass, Magnus gazed languidly at the unfocused shape above him. It turned at the sound of something – a voice, which Magnus was too dazed to understand. He felt as if he were under water, trying to make sense of the everything that lived above the surface.

Moments later, another shape appeared. There was a hum of noise – talking, perhaps. There was relief in the voices He felt the hand on him pull; it was the only thing keeping him conscious.

If he'd been given the choice, Magnus would have lain there all night, under the stars and the distant traffic passing over the bridge. But that choice was taken away from him when he was dragged across the bank by the wrist and cold water was splashed in his face. Magnus scrunched up his eyes and nose, tasting copper in his mouth.

"I need a drink, not a bath," he muttered. When he opened his eyes again, he could see clearer: Jeremy peered down at him with an anxious expression. Beside him was the mermaid, staring at him with an odd look of fascination and suspicion. Her eyes were big, he noticed, and the same shade of coloring in her scales, like two glittering amethyst stones. Magnus could understand now why Jeremy must have been drawn to her.

"I have a Mars bar if that helps?" offered Jeremy. Though tears still clung to his cheeks, he was smiling.

Magnus rose groggily into a sitting position. His clothes were soaked and his head throbbed as if it had been hit with a baseball bat. "I'll pass." He went to stretch, only to find his arm was still being held by a hand. When he looked down at it, he discovered that their fingers were long and webbed with nails that looked sharp.

"Sorry," Amatheia said, letting go. Her voice was light and musical and settled some of the pressure in his skull. "Jeremy tells me you saved my life. No words can explain how thankful I am for what you did."

Magnus snorted. "I don't need thanks, just a strong shot of whiskey and a lot of sleep."

"Mr. Bane," Jeremy began, "I will be forever in debt for what you have done –"

"It's _Magnus!_ " the warlock grumbled.

A short gasp escaped the mermaid. "Then Jeremy is right. You are the High Warlock of Brooklyn?"

"Is that supposed to mean something to your kind?" Magnus asked with a raised eyebrow.

Darkness clouded over Amatheia's face, dowsing the light in her eyes. "My kind are dead to me." She was supporting her body on one elbow, her tail submerged in the water behind her. The wounds were still visible on her skin but they were now closed and free of poison.

"Dare I ask why?"

Amatheia grimaced. "I was exiled. By order of the courts. Never again am I allowed to return to the East River or anywhere beyond that."

"What did you do?" Magnus asked, knowing that being part of the Fair Folk meant that she couldn't lie.

"She did nothing," answered Jeremy firmly, putting a protective arm around her as he did.

"Except fall in love," said Magnus, suddenly understanding.

"They didn't like that I was spending too much time at the surface." Amatheia winced as she shifted onto her other elbow and Jeremy helped to hold her upright. "They feared for my safety," she continued, biting her lip as she endured the lingering pain. "When they discovered I was in contact with a human, they feared for their own safety. I was given a choice. Kill him, or to face expulsion. I was a fool to think they wouldn't follow through with it."

"Your world doesn't sound so different from mine," Magnus said empathetically. "Though, you live at greater risk in these waters. I doubt that'll be the last demon to come your way."

"It tricked me," she murmured as the memory of what happened washed over her face. "It appeared in the form of Jeremy the first time and my father the second."

"Your father?" Jeremy questioned.

Amatheia nodded. "I stayed under the water, like you said. But it found me anyway. If it hadn't gotten distracted by the mundanes crossing the bridge, I…"

Jeremy wrapped his other arm around her and buried his face into her neck. Magnus wondered how he tolerated the smell of seaweed. "My love, I am so sorry."

"But it isn't your fault," she replied gently, smoothing his hair back. The connection between them was undeniable and it sent a mixture of emotions through Magnus's chest, like a hot blade searing his heart. He was envious of what they shared, angry with his past lovers for the damage they'd caused him and petrified that he might have ruined his chance with someone else, someone special and good and quite possibly his last stab at love.

"It's been lovely meeting you both, but I really need to get back," Magnus said, hoping, but not really expecting, Alec to still be waiting for him.

As he rose to his feet, Amatheia grabbed onto his ankle. "Magnus Bane, wait."

"You have one minute," he said warningly. "Make it count."

"As the High Warlock of Brooklyn, you are more powerful than any other warlock in the area. Is this so?"

"You could say that," said Magnus, too tired to be smug about the fact.

"Then you have the power to make me human."

Magnus's jaw dropped slightly. "I'm sorry?"

"I wish you to make me human. Like Jeremy."

In the silent seconds that passed, Magnus stared between Jeremy and Amatheia, trying to find any kind of excuse that would make her change her mind. But he found nothing except two aching souls that yearned to be together.

"You can't get something for nothing," Magnus said finally, wishing he had a better answer for them.

"Here," Amatheia said, untying her necklace and giving it to Magnus. "I didn't want it anyway."

"That's not what I meant," said the warlock, holding the grey pearls up to the moonlight. Just one of them was priceless. "I meant that you're asking me to perform dark magic. You're asking me to strip away the centuries that lie before you and replace them with decades. You're asking me to give you lungs and feet and probably a womb as well. In a sense, you're asking me to give you a life that you were never supposed to have." He looked at them gravely. "The riches on Earth mean nothing to the demons that live below us. They demand a different kind of payment which you may not even think to be so valuable until it's taken away from you. The price of dark magic is not something you should consider lightly."

"But what kind of life is this?" Amatheia asked despairingly. "Living in secret and loving only in the shadows? I want to grow old with Jeremy. I want to walk along the paths he walks, breathe the air the way he does. I would give anything to be human."

Magnus strung off a single pearl from the necklace before handing the rest back to Amatheia. "I'll take this as payment for today. You'll need the rest for later, if you decide to follow through with your decision. I'm not turning you into a human now. But if, once you've both really thought about it, you want to follow it through, you know where to find me."

"Thank you again, Mr – Magnus," Jeremy breathed, standing up and shaking Magnus's hand. "If there's anything I can do for you…?"

"Just one thing. Don't ask for any favors the next time I'm on a date."

"Of course," Jeremy said with a guilty smile. "He seems a loyal man. I hope he makes you happy."

"Me too," said Magnus.

As he walked away, it occurred to him that he'd never exactly stated that Alec was his date and Magnus realized he should've given Jeremy more credit - for a mundane, anyway.

 _A human and a Downworlder,_ he thought as he climbed the fence with weighted limbs and dropped heavily on the other side. One immortal, the other not. A companionship like that wasn't unusual to him; he'd dated mortals himself before. And as much as he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with them, that had never been an option. He remembered this, every time he fell stupidly for a mortal, when he would be completely love sick and thought his heart would burst. He wondered if his immortality was something that had occurred to Alec and if it had, whether that meant anything to him. Or was Magnus simply the experiment he feared he was after all? The thought made his gut tie itself in a knot.

As he started to walk back, his head pounding with tiredness and disconsolate thoughts, the last thing he expected to see was a Shadowhunter running toward him. A Shadowhunter whose brilliant eyes could brighten even the darkest of nights.

Alec.

The sight of the him brought upon Magnus a wave of mixed emotions: joy that he hadn't abandoned him, guilt that he'd doubted he would and fear that he was falling too hard for a boy who might change his mind at any moment. But as Alec neared, Magnus could tell by his face that something was very wrong.

"Magnus, you have to –" Alec's words faltered upon reaching him. He raised a hand slowly to the warlock's face. "What happened? Is this your blood?"

The concern he saw in his eyes, however, didn't give him the same feeling it had done before; it only made the knot inside him tighten.

Taking a hold of the Shadowhunter's hand, Magnus said, "It's nothing worth worrying about. I'm fine. The mermaid is fine." He lowered their hands and let go. "You, on the other hand, look as if you just summoned the Angel Raziel by mistake."

Alec shook his head. "The cab driver," he said, and Magnus noticed his cheeks were flushed with angst. "The demon found him, Magnus. He's dead."

* * *

They hurried back to where they had left the taxi as quick as Magnus's worn-out body would let them. Alec slowed his pace to match his and Magnus briefed him on what had happened with Amatheia. He seemed glad that the Downworlder survived, something which Shadowhunters were rarely bothered about.

As they passed through the wired fencing and neared the road, Magnus noticed the cab had gone.

"I think the demon took it," said Alec, immediately answering Magnus's next question. "He must have taken off when he sensed I was coming."

"The demon can drive?" queried Magnus, pulling out a wet packet of Kleenex from the inside of his jacket and wiping the blood from his face with the soggy remains.

"Not well," Alec said, glancing at the skid marks the vehicle had left as he walked toward the lifeless form on the ground. "He left the body here."

Stuffing the tissue in a vacant pocket, Magnus joined Alec and looked down at the man who had been living and breathing just half an hour before. The demon hadn't done much - for a demon, anyway. His throat had been slit and a weak stream of blood pumped from the wound and bubbled at his lips. He lay in a puddle of scarlet liquid, most of which had poured from the stump at the end of his elbow. The cut wasn't a clean one either, as if the demon had clamped his teeth on his arm and swallowed it whole.

"A life for a life," he murmured gravely.

Alec turned a worried face to him. "What should we do? I'm supposed to inform the Head of the Institute about something like this. Now that we haven't got one, I'm expected to go to the Conclave instead. But if I do, they'll wonder why I was out in the first place and… I don't have an explanation for that."

"We're not going to do anything," Magnus decided. "It's my fault you're here. None of this is on you."

"But we can't just leave a dead mundane."

"Someone else will find him," said Magnus as he slowly walked away from the body. "There's nothing more we can do for him. The demon is gone. Jeremy and Amatheia are safe."

Alec sighed in defeat. "I shouldn't have left him here."

"How could you have known?"

"That's exactly it. I should have known." Alec pushed a hand through his hair with restrained frustration. "I was distracted."

"Distracted?" The word echoed around them as Alec's hand went still and he stared at Magnus. "Distracted by what?"

Slowly, Alec released his hand and lowered it down to his side. His eyes fell with it. "Emotions cloud judgement," he said, barely loud enough for Magnus to hear. "A Shadowhunter is ruled by his mind, not by his heart. I'd always thought I had control over that."

Suddenly understanding, Magnus took a careful step back to Alec. "In your defense, we were supposed to be having a date tonight. And if you'd stayed at home like a "good" Shadowhunter and hadn't come with me, that man would have died anyway." He barely had time to regret his words and the bitterness with which he said them before Alec responded.

"Maybe… Maybe I should have stayed at home." He lifted his chin a little higher. "But I didn't want to."

"It isn't too late to change your mind."

Alec's shoulders fell, reminding Magnus of a deflating balloon. "That's a subtle way of saying you've changed yours, right?"

"Actually," the warlock confessed, "that was a really bad way of saying, "I'm glad you didn't want to stay at home but here's a Get out of Jail Free card, just in case.""

"Oh, well, I haven't changed my mind, if that's what you mean." Alec held his gaze now, the dead man behind them apparently forgotten to him.

"Then perhaps we should head back and start over again. Take three." Sensing Alec's lingering hesitation he added, "I'll send a fire message to a warlock I know. They'll be able to deal with the body."

"Start over" Alec repeated and his smile returned. "I like that idea."


	5. Chapter 5

It hadn't been Magnus's intention to fall asleep on the journey home but exhaustion had gotten the better of him. They'd managed to hitch a ride with a friendly mundane who'd noticed them standing on the side of the road with hopeful thumbs stuck out. As soon as Magnus's had leaned back against the head rest, he'd found it almost impossible to keep his eyes open.

Alec had shaken him awake once they'd arrived at his street and taken money out of his own wallet to pay the driver, which he'd refused.

The air was cool and gently coaxed Magnus out of his sleepy state. He stretched up on his toes with his hands in the air, encouraging his joints to pop.

"You shouldn't have let me doze off," he said to Alec, who stood on the edge of the curb, hands in his pockets, as the driver beeped a farewell and drove off. The air it stirred ruffled the dark locks of hair at the front of Alec's head.

"I figured you needed the rest," the Shadowhunter replied.

Magnus smiled wanly. "I'm sorry for tonight. I shouldn't have brought you along."

"It's not your fault," said Alec. "And I'm glad I came. I mean, that was the first time I'd seen a mermaid."

"Who would've thought they smell like seaweed after all?"

"It makes sense, I suppose," Alec replied politely as they started to walk back to the apartment. "I've read that they use it a lot in their day-to-day lives since it's easily accessible."

"It's a wonder how Jeremy gets over the smell," said Magnus. His nose twitched unpleasantly at the thought of it now, until it he realized he was just smelling the stench of garbage lying outside the warehouses; it seemed noticeably worse than normal.

Alec furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully. "Maybe he's used to it. Or maybe he just loves her that much he doesn't notice it. I mean, love makes everything about someone seem better. You see them differently to everyone else, even if they can't see you that way."

They had stopped at the entrance to the main door that Magnus always left unlocked. Where Alec stood on the doorstep, under the moonlight which gave his skin a pale wash, Magnus had never seen him look so vulnerable. He didn't need to ask him to elaborate to know what – or who, in fact - he was talking about. Whenever Alec talked about his _parabatai,_ Jace, he spoke of him as if he were the sun - golden and warm and, from a distance, truly wonderful. But that's the only way he could love him. From a distance. Any closer, and it would destroy Alec. For he saw himself as the moon, only brightened from the light he could reflect from his _parabatai_. On his own, he was dull, powerless and invisible.

"Love can be a curse," said Magnus, turning away from Alec. "But with the right person, it can be a blessing." And he pushed the door open, gesturing for Alec to enter first.

After the events of that day, it seemed strange to Magnus to finally be alone with Alec and any chaos now locked behind the front door.

He'd asked to be excused momentarily whilst he showered and changed. "Because let's face it, I look hideous."

Alec kindly told him it wasn't necessary but that he didn't mind waiting. To keep his date occupied, Magnus switched on the TV (which was followed by a quick apology and a change of channel when the horror film Raphael had been watching earlier resumed) and told him that if anyone buzzed, it was just the takeaway he'd ordered for them.

"You don't mind staying in?" Magnus asked, to which Alec shook his head and told him he actually preferred it.

Hastily he added, "But that doesn't mean I didn't like our date last week. That time was great, too. I just meant I like staying in even more." And the smile which followed was genuine.

Magnus wasted no time in jumping into the shower and scrubbing off every impurity and shaving every trace of hair on his face and lower regions - not that the latter was necessary but one should always be prepared.

He hastily dried and styled his hair and quickly applied some charcoal and glitter to his eyes. He heard the buzzer whilst he was hopping around the room trying to squeeze into his trousers, followed by the sound of Alec's footsteps descending the staircase.

Somewhere in between spritzing himself with cologne and trying to decide whether he should leave one button of his shirt undone or two, a chilling noise pierced the atmosphere. It was then that he sensed it: a demonic presence.

Magnus hurtled out of the room, hardly aware of the fact that he wore nothing on his feet. Though his head still ached, he didn't stop. He leapt down the stairs, his feet barely touching the steps and had just reached the bottom when he heard Alec call out the name of the Angel _Zaphkiel_. A bright angelic light illuminated the slight opening through the metal door and when Magnus flung it open he saw Alec standing on the doorstep, a roaring demon before him. It stood on four of its hind legs and snapped at Alec with two sets of pincers. In one of them he held a brown paper bag. Its appearance was large, reptilian and grotesque with multiple eyes and a wide jaw in which several, sharp teeth were crammed, like that of a shark. Strips of flesh hung from its mouth and the surrounding area was stained with blood. There was a purple shine to his snarl and Magnus noticed scales stuck between his many teeth.

He barely had time to react before Alec was plunging his glowing seraph blade directly into the demon's chest. It released an almighty screech as black liquid sprayed from the wound, drenching Alec's shirt in ichor.

It was enough. The demon crumbled before them, disappearing to the hell dimension from which it came. With his quick reflexes, Alec reached his free hand forward, catching the brown paper bag before it thudded to the ground.

They both remained completely still, aside from the rising and falling of their chests as they panted.

Eventually Alec stood slowly upright, the light from his seraph blade fading. He looked down at the weapon, almost as if he couldn't believe he'd used it to kill a demon, and then turned to Magnus.

This time, when Magnus looked at Alec on his doorstep, his eyes shone brighter than they'd ever done before, like an asterism of stars, and the glow of the moon highlighted his profile and all the sharp planes on his face, almost as if he really were an angel.

An Angel carrying a Chinese takeaway.

A smile quirked on Magnus's lips. "Did you just kill our delivery boy, Alexander?"

Without saying a word, Alec rushed forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Magnus's neck. The warlock responded warmly to the embrace, bringing his arms up and placing his hands firmly on his shoulder blades. This close, Magnus could feel Alec's heart beating against his and the pulse in his neck which throbbed against his cheek. And he felt warm and the collar of his shirt smelt warm despite the stench of sweat and ichor that tried to overpower it. Is was a comforting warmth, not like the heat of the sun which was only pleasant from a distance. Magnus wanted to be this close to Alec because it was right here where he felt perfect.

It seemed a long time before either of them moved.

Alec pulled back first, clearing his throat as he did. "I think our delivery boy was eaten. And I've just realized I've ruined your new shirt."

"Not at all," said Magnus, stepping back to assess the damage. "I've had this thing for an age. I've been meaning to find an excuse to get rid of it."

"Um, I think the tag is still on it."

Magnus tried to be subtle about rolling his shoulder back to shift the tag away from view. "Sometimes I buy clothes and then forget I have them." He bent down to pick something from the floor and held it up in his palm for Alec to see. "It looks like we've found our runaway demon," he said, showing the purple mermaid scale to him which he'd seen in the demon's teeth.

"At least we know it can't harm anyone else now," said Alec as he cleaned the blade of his seraph on his flannel shirt.

"Come on," encourage Magnus, taking the takeaway from Alec's grip and sliding his own hand in its place. "Let me find you something else to wear."

* * *

It had been harder choosing a new shirt for himself than it had been for Alec. He'd realized that he owned many tops which he thought would look great on the Shadowhunter. Eventually he settled on long sleeve mesh top – the material was dark enough so that the fact he wasn't wearing a vest underneath wasn't too obvious.

When Magnus returned to the lounge, he found Alec sat on one of the longer settees; his ichor-stained top was now sat in his lap and he was drawing an _iratze_ on his forearm. Holding back a grin, Magnus came forward and sat down next to him, offering the clean shirt.

"You seem to be making a habit of this," Magnus said as Alec finished the healing rune and pocketed his stele.

The Shadowhunter lifted his head innocently. "A habit of what?"

"Undressing yourself in my apartment." He tilted his head coyly to the side. "Not that I'm complaining."

A rush of pink spread across Alec's cheeks and he reached tentatively for the clothing in Magnus's hands. He didn't make an effort to take it, however, and Magnus didn't think to release it from his grip. Instead, Alec paused, his inked chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. When he eventually lifted his gaze to Magnus's, he looked at him through long, dark lashes that partly obscured the impossible blue of his irises.

"I forgot to return the last top you lent me," Alec murmured, his face so close that Magnus could see the stray flecks of hair between his eyebrows and feel his gentle exhales on his own skin.

"Keep it," Magnus replied, lowering his eyes to the Shadowhunter's lips. "Consider it payment for everything you've done for me today. It looked better on you, anyway."

A sudden, short laugh escaped Alec before his breath hitched and his grip tightened on the shirt they both held.

"I… I couldn't," Alec said almost breathlessly. "If you want I could drop it off tomorrow… or –"

Without letting him finish, Magnus pressed his lips firmly onto Alec's, inhaling deeply to draw the moment out. The material fell from their fingers and Alec's hand gripped onto Magnus's wrist as he opened his mouth to the kiss.

The reaction was instant: their lips were the match; their blood was the gasoline. Fire coursed through Magnus's veins, igniting every cell in his body. The further it spread, the more he wanted it to consume him, like wildfire through a forest, touching every living thing in its path. But instead of the flames destroying him, they only made him stronger. He felt alive, the most alive he'd felt since he woken up that morning with the prospect of seeing Alec.

And now he was here. He could feel him. He could feel the flush of heat from Alec's skin as he caressed his scarred back with his hands. He could feel Alec's spine that shivered under the cool rings he wore on his fingers.

And Magnus could taste him. He could taste the warmth inside Alec's mouth and the wetness of his tongue as it moved with a clumsy determination, desperately trying to taste his. And it was only because the boy whimpered that Magnus decided to hold back to let him win.

This, however, only seemed to make him crave more. Suddenly, Alec was touching him. With nervous hands, he pushed one hand under the material of Magnus's clothes and gripped tightly onto his muscles, feeling his burning skin. With the other hand he grabbed his face, making delicate, guttural noises as he kissed his mouth, his chin, his jaw and his neck. Alec's fingers were unsteady, his breathing was irregular and his kisses were far from paragon but Magnus didn't mind. His innocence reminded him to take things slowly and to enjoy the little things that, to Alec, were very big things. And knowing that he was the Shadowhunter's first romance, he wanted to make every moment count for him.

Flames gently enveloped Magnus's heart and just as he began to wonder whether Alec's heart was burning, too, the Shadowhunter's thigh started to vibrate and a chorus of static beeps came from it. Breaking away, Alec fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out his phone. It almost slipped between his fingers as he checked the caller.

"It's Jace," Alec said, wearing the face of someone who was holding a bomb rather than a ringing cell phone. "What should I do?"

Magnus shrugged. "Ignore it."

"But it might be important."

"Then he'll leave a voicemail."

"But -" The phone went silent.

"Problem solved."

Alec put the phone down on the coffee table in front of them but he watched it warily as if waiting for it to explode.

"Can I interest you in some mu shu pork?" Magnus asked with a wry grin.

With a dazed blink, Alec looked up at him and smiled warmly when he saw Magnus offering him the food and a plastic fork.

"Thanks," he said, bending down to lift the clean shirt and putting it on before accepting the takeaway. The clothing hugged his muscles and gave a better view to his collar bones. Alec seemed too absorbed in eating to notice the enhancement in his appearance.

Magnus turned the volume up on the TV and, whilst they ate, Alec asked him endless questions about the comedy show they were watching, such as where the crowd of laughing people were that only seemed to exist when a character said something funny.

It wasn't too long before they were kissing again. Alec had one knee folded underneath him and Magnus's legs were draped over Alec's other thigh which dangled from the sofa. At some point, Alec's phone rang again but Magnus had such a tight hold on his head and his mouth that he didn't make much of an effort to move.

Magnus then directed his attention to Alec's ear, a surprisingly enjoyable experience for the Shadowhunter which he seemed eager to return. He nibbled gently, though, as if he were afraid to hurt Magnus. So endearing was the gesture that Magnus wanted to wrap himself around Alec and keep him there the entire night. And perhaps he would've done if Alec's phone hadn't rung for the third time. He didn't ignore it this time.

With Magnus's legs still resting in his lap, Alec reached over for his phone.

"Hello?" Alec's voice was noticeably higher in pitch. He paused as Jace spoke to him. "I'm... nowhere. I mean, I just went on a walk. To nowhere in particular."

Magnus couldn't hear Jace's response but he predicted it to be something sarcastic.

"No you can't join me." Pause. "Because I..." He gave Magnus a sideways glance. "Because I'm coming home now anyway."

Magnus sighed internally.

"Oh...you did?" _Demon_ , Alec mouthed to Magnus. "Under the Pulaski Bridge?" he swallowed nervously. "No, I haven't heard anything... I didn't even walk far... But let's check it out tomorrow. I'm tired." He tousled his hair in vexation. "I'm not acting weird. We're not even supposed to be going out on demon hunts." He sighed. "Look, I'll talk to you about this when I'm back." He muttered a goodbye before hanging up.

Magnus swung his legs off Alec to allow him to leave.

"I'm sorry," the Shadowhunter said, dropping the phone in his lap and holding his face in his hands.

"Don't be," said Magnus, resting a hand on Alec's knee. "Life gets in the way. Now we're even."

Alec chuckled softly but his eyes held am incomprehensible sadness. "If this that's life, then what is this?" He looked at the hand Magnus had placed on his leg. "What's this… this _thing_ we have?"

"What do you want it to be?" Magnus asked softly.

"I don't know what I want," said Alec with an absent expression. "All I know is that I like this." He placed a hand over his; his porcelain skin stood starkly against Magnus's brown one. "And I like you. Maybe I like you a lot. But what I like and what is expected of me are two completely different things. And I don't know how to work that out."

"Life isn't about making other people happy, Alexander." Magnus turned his hand over so that he was holding Alec's. "Your happiness is the only thing that should be expected of you."

"I wish it were that simple." Alec stood up, letting Magnus's hand drop from his lap.

"Let me walk you to the door," said Magnus, rising with him.

After crossing the threshold, Alec swiveled around with a puzzled look on his face, searching the pockets of his jeans. "Where's my cell?"

"Here," said Magnus, producing the device. "I put my number in your contacts."

Alec took it from him. "In case of an emergency?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. But also so you can call me for non-emergencies. If you want."

Alec smiled. "Okay. I will."

"Okay, then."

"Okay."

"See you... next Friday?"

Alec nodded and blushed. "Next Friday."

"Goodnight, Alexander."

"Goodnight."

After Magnus shut the door, he rested his back against it and closed his eyes, letting the memories from that evening sink in. It had all been too much for one night, like eating a whole tub of ice-cream before running a marathon. He needed to replay the events in slow motion, frame by frame. Right now every word, every touch and every kiss just brought back a rush of complicated emotions that were too strong for Magnus to feel after they had lain dormant for so very many years. Years Magnus had spent wondering if he would ever feel again.

And when he heard a knock on the door, he had to tell himself that imagining Alec had returned wasn't going to make him appear. He was powerful, yes, but regrettably not that powerful.

But then he heard another series of knocks and he couldn't convince himself otherwise again.

Magnus's eyes flew open.

Spinning around, he pulled on the handle and swung the door open.

Alec looked up at him, startled, as if he wasn't prepared for Magnus to open the door even though he'd knocked on it

"Is it Friday again already?" asked Magnus, leaning against the door frame by the elbow.

The playfulness wasn't returned. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course." Magnus straightened up.

"I couldn't leave without saying this," said Alec quietly. "I would be lying to myself. And to you." He went to tug the fraying threads on his shirt, only to realize he was now wearing one of Magnus's, who never kept any of his clothes long enough for them to start showing signs of wear.

Magnus nodded.

Inhaling deeply, Alec said, "That was the first time I killed a demon."

At first, Magnus could only blink. "Oh?"

"I've never killed a demon before," Alec explained, crossing his arms in self-conscious defense. "Not by myself, anyway. That was the first time."

Though Alec was young, most Shadowhunters were younger when they killed their first demon. Magnus already knew that Alec fought with his sister and his _parabatai_ , two of the most important people in his life. From what he had gathered, Alec prioritized the safety and protection of the ones he loved over the kill. And often it was easier to help the brighter star take the glory, even if doing so only made them burn brighter.

"And you thought you owed me this explanation?"

"I didn't want you to think I'd been doing this all my life," said Alec. He spoke quietly, even though there was no one about to hear. "Like I just killed that thing without any thought or feeling. I've never faced a demon alone. I was scared." He exhaled shakily. "Then I killed it and… I felt something. Everyone always talks about this feeling you get when you kill a demon. The more you do it, the more you want to do it again, and again, like a drug." He looked down, screwing his eyes tightly together. "And I thought, what if I've changed now? What if I'm no longer the person I was and I've become someone else?"

"You mean, what if you've become a self-centered, self-absorbed, oh-so-high-and-mighty Shadowhunter?" Magnus asked with a smirk.

Alec shrugged. "Maybe."

"Impossible," said Magnus, coming forward and lifting a hand to Alec's face. It was beautiful, just as Magnus had thought when he first saw him. "You know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because no Shadowhunter I've ever met would spend an evening with a warlock just because they wanted to. A Shadowhunter always wants something. You wanted nothing but my company, before and after you killed that demon." He stroked a thumb along his cheek as it began to flush red. "What's more, no Shadowhunter has ever been afraid about what I think of them."

Alec looked up at Magnus then, his eyebrows raised in affliction. "Do you think differently of me? Because I wasn't the Shadowhunter you thought I was?"

"Alexander," Magnus said with a sigh. "I couldn't care less about your kill count. I wouldn't even care if you told me you weren't really a Shadowhunter. I like you, Alec Lightwood." And there was a crack in his voice as he spoke. Because Alec had unlocked something in him. He could feel, when he never thought he would feel again. And every moment Magnus looked at Alec, the more he wanted his heart to remain unlocked. Before, he didn't think he could trust another to have his heart. But he could trust Alec, if he wanted it. "Maybe," he murmured, as he planted a kiss on the Shadowhunter's lips, "I like you a lot."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! If you have just another minute, I would really appreciate hearing your feedback. If you were interested in any of the characters Magnus came across and would like to read more about them, please let me know! And please feel free to send me a private message if you have any other queries or just want to say hi! I love meeting new people. :)**


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